With Time
by Cheeno
Summary: It has become a ritual of theirs, a strangely comforting familiarity she can root herself to, steady as tidal waves. She will follow, and he will wait for her, like he always do. As she walks through the door, May knows that her eyes will find those of Drew, still waiting. Contestshipping. Drabble'ish one-shot.


This is a short story I wrote, after some weeks with inactivity, I realize. I'm sorry for that, my studies are taking their toll again, and it will probably not be better in a while. But I might still write some stories, if I get the inspiration, and with time to go with it. I wrote this after reading 'Until the Next Time' by Twerksie (inspiration struck me, quite unexpectedly), and if you like Naruto, you should definitely check out her stories!

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.

 **With Time**

They haven't seen each other in a while. Still she walks through the doors of the contest hall, and she knows he will be there. As surely as the sun is always rising in the sky, his signature smirk greets her from across the room. All her senses tunes in on him, her steps taking on a certain bounce as she hurriedly crosses the floor, barely noticing any surroundings. Such as potential barrier-functioning people and pokemon. What she doesn't need right now is her own clumsiness on display, for him to see in all its glory. Luckily, with the space between him and her successfully overcome, she can smile to him at last.

They talk about their pokemon, and the journey. His ribbon case opens, revealing five gleaming taunts. His smug expression and arched brow sets her determination ablaze, and silently she vows to catch up with him, to match his challenge and pull through. Somehow she is yet again in need of winning the last contest before the Grand Festival, as if by a curse, but nothing will stand in her way.

She feels everything. Blood coursing through her veins, like drums in her ears, blocking out the sound of cheers. Even with the spotlights slightly dazzling her, his greenness stands out in the audience as a beacon, a reminder of everything a contest stands for. She will not disappoint him. And more importantly, she will do this for herself and her trusting pokemon, she reminds herself. Her eyes are steadfast as they meets those of her opponent, and she must have looked intimidating somehow, because the poor boy is suddenly oozing nervousness. Immediately her stance softens, and she gives him an almost motherly smile, coaxing him to relax and just enjoy. Because even though this means the world to her, she would never want to be the source of someone else's discomfort. But then she feels, with every nerve in her body, how _his_ scrutinizing stare follows her, contemplating and judging her every move. Thus she pulls out that confident smile.

She proudly presents him her new ribbon, the fifth. They will battle again at the Festival itself, where their rivalry will be allowed its annual bloom. It is a silent promise. She lifts her gaze up from the ribbon, connecting with his stunning green eyes. A new sort of silence envelops them, she doesn't dare to blink or even breathe. The moment is promptly shattered though, as a snide remark passes his lips, while she responds with a proper answer of her own. This is as it always have been, and it feels safe, even special. A rose puts an end to her ranting, produced from who-knows-where. This too is as it should be.

He smiles one of those rare, warm smiles, whisking away all sensible, coherent thought. She seeks his features for something, even though she can't put a name on it at the moment. Perhaps he does the same, in the time span of those seconds. A restless soul as he is, a flick of his hair is the action which concludes their meeting, and he says his goodbye and leaves. Left alone to look at his retreating back, she wonders what this elusive something is. She wonders if the day will come when she looks upon him and they will both _know_. Is there more to this, hiding just out of reach? Perhaps, in the future, they will discover that something, whatever that is which he searches for in her. Perhaps, with time, she will be ready. Perhaps.


End file.
